Damaged Goods
by theoofoof
Summary: Set late series 3. When Ruth's boyfriend turns violent, how will she deal with it? And how will Harry react when he finds out?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Damaged Goods  
**Fandom: **Spooks  
**Characters/Pairings: **Harry/Ruth  
**Rating: **M **  
Warnings:** This fic deals with some pretty adult themes, hence the rating.

**Summary:** Set late series 3. When Ruth's boyfriend turns violent, how will she deal with it? And how will Harry react when he finds out?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Spooks or any of the characters or dialogue you may recognise. They all belong to Kudos/BBC.

**A/N:** Please do leave a review. I'm extremely nervous about this fic as it deals with quite a sensitive subject matter that I've never tackled before. I hope I do it justice, but would love your feedback. :)

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_3rd June 2005, 6.10pm…_

Harry opens the letter and sighs; he didn't get the DG's position. Not that he wanted it but, as conceited as it sounds, he knows he was the best candidate. He looks out of his office, scanning the grid, and sees Ruth at her desk. He rises to tell her the panel's decision; it's only right that he inform her first, as she had helped him with his preparation.

Ruth is touching up her makeup and watching the news report on Anglo West African Oil's plunge in the stock market after their unsuccessful bid for the Ivory Coast pipeline contract when he approaches her. "You see? Wrongs righted, evil doers brought to heel, miracles performed. Is there no end to our goodness Ruth?" Ruth flashes him a smile, putting her compact mirror away. When she has done so, Harry hands her a letter, "I got down to the final two. Then they parachuted a late contender into the job."

"But that's good isn't it? That's what you wanted."

"Yes but it's still annoying when the best man for the job is passed over. For a politician. It seems you were right."

Ruth smiles at him. "Yes. But I'm pleased."

"Yeh, well I'm not," Danny interjects, approaching them. "There's a scratch on the floor of my flat. It seems the removal men weren't careful enough after Fiona 'moved out'."

Harry and Ruth share a look. "My point exactly," he says addressing Ruth, "I wouldn't be involved in any of these crucial issues if I were DG." Ruth smirks as he turns back to Danny. "We'll get the removal men in and set Adam on them. He'll get to the bottom of it if anyone will." Out of the corner of his eye he spots Ruth gathering her things. "Off out are we Ruth?" he asks.

"Yes. I'm only three days late. And if anything happens between here and the pods, please don't tell me."

Harry lets he walk a few steps, before calling after her. "Ruth?"

"I'm not listening," she calls back, causing Harry to laugh. When he's collected himself, he assures Danny he will address the issue with the damage to his flat before retreating back to his office. When he sits down at his desk, his thoughts turn to Ruth. She had been diligent, bordering on obsessive, about his interview preparation and while it had been slightly infuriating at times, he had enjoyed spending the additional time with her. Over the past few months he has begun to view her in a different light, one that is swiftly becoming unprofessional. He finds himself wondering where she is off out to tonight and who with, whilst trying to push down the feelings of jealously that stir in his stomach when he thinks of her being with another man.

* * *

_8.10pm…_

Ruth hurries down the steps to the restaurant; she's late and, having already had to postpone this dinner once, she's loathed to be late today. She doubts her dining companion will be impressed either. She's meeting Richard 'Dick' Francis, a very attractive man who worked at one of the top accountancy firms in London. Ruth had met him while on a rare night out at the theatre with an old college friend.

_She'd been standing at the bar during the interval trying, unsuccessfully to get the bartender's attention so she could order drinks for her and her friend, when he'd struck up a conversation, advising her that next time she should pre-order her interval drinks before the show started. She'd thanked him for his advice and he'd introduced himself. _

_"I'm Richard. Richard Francis. But my friend's call me Dick."_

_Ruth stifled a grin. "Dick Francis? Like the jockey?"_

_"Yeh, it's kind of a running joke; I used to ride. I have to say though, I'm impressed. You don't look like the sort of woman who would be knowledgeable about horse-racing."_

_"To be honest I'm not. Dick Francis wrote crime novels too; my father loved them."_

_Their conversation had continued and Ruth had found herself enjoying his company and had been disappointed when the announcement came for people to take their seats for the second half. _

_Richard had been too. "Maybe I can give you a call sometime; we can finish this conversation then?"_

_"I'd like that," she'd replied and, in an action quite out of character for her, she'd given him her number. She'd assumed he was just being polite and she'd never hear from him again, but four days later he'd called and asked her to dinner. _

That had been four months ago, and she has been enjoying a relationship with him ever since. Tonight they are having dinner with Richard's boss and his wife; something Richard is hoping will help him earn a promotion. She spots him as soon as she enters the restaurant; he's looking very handsome in his Saville Row suit. When her eyes met his though she can tell he isn't happy. He needs to look good tonight and she knows he'll think her tardiness will make him seem inept. She looks at her watch; it's ten past eight. She's ten minutes late.

"I am so sorry I'm late," she breathes as she rushes over to the table and greets Richard (she can't bring herself to call him Dick) with a brief hug. "Something came up at work," she explains. As they embrace she notices a strong smell of alcohol and feels her stomach twist. Richard likes a drink but Ruth is of the opinion that sometimes he drinks too much and he can be unpredictable when drunk.

"We'll talk about your excuses later," he whispers chillingly into her ear as he holds her a little too tightly. "Right now, we have some guests to entertain." He turns back to face his boss and his demeanour changes completely; he's back to his charming self. "John, Patricia; may I introduce Miss Ruth Evershed."

Ruth shakes their hands in greeting and apologises to their guests for the postponement and her tardiness. They assure her it's no problem and it's soon forgotten, giving way to much more interesting subjects of conversation. If only Richard could forget it…

* * *

_11.35pm…_

When they arrive back at Ruth's house, Richard is more than a little worse for wear and is hassling Ruth about her late arrival.

"I just don't understand why you couldn't just tell your boss you had plans," he slurs as he leans against her front door, waiting for her to unlock it.

"I've explained this to you before," she tells him as she lets them inside. "It's not that kind of job. If something comes up then, quite often I'll need to stay."

"Hmmph! Well, I don't like it."

"Well, it's my job so I don't suppose you have to."

He spins round and grabs her wrist. "And just what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Ruth winces. "Richard, you're hurting me." She tries to pull away but he just holds her tighter.

"Answer the question!" he growls.

"I just meant that it's not you that has to work late or be on call; that's all."

"No, I just have to put up with a girlfriend who thinks it's acceptable to be late for one of the most important dinners of my life."

"I've said sorry," she protests.

Finally he lets her go, violently pushing her away. "Well that's not good enough! Do you know how it made me look?"

"I'm sure they understood; they seem like reasonable people."

"Oh, what would you know about it!" Richard yells and before Ruth realises what's happening, there is a stinging pain in her left cheek. He has slapped her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_4th June 2005, 6.50am…_

Ruth stands in front of the mirror, checking her appearance once more before she leaves for work. A bruise has formed where Richard had hit her but, luckily, she has been able to cover it with a mixture of foundation and concealer. As she stares at her pale reflection she thinks back to last night…

_When he'd realised what he'd done, Richard had been appalled with himself. He'd kept apologising over and over, and she could see the disgust and self-loathing in his eyes. Still, she couldn't bear to be in the same room as him so she'd screamed at him to leave. He had done, whispering one final sorry as he went. As soon as the door had shut behind him, she'd rushed to lock it. It had taken her a few attempts to get the security chain in place, her hands had been shaking that much, but eventually she had managed it. Then she'd returned to the living room and her eyes had fallen on the whiskey bottle on the bookcase; left out by her step-father who had visited the previous weekend. Hands still trembling, she'd poured herself a glass and downed it. The amber liquid hard burned as it slid down her throat but it'd felt good and helped to dull the pain, so she'd had a second. Once she'd stopped shaking, she'd hauled herself upstairs and taken a shower, with the water so hot it had almost scalded her. She hadn't cared though; just wanting to cleanse herself of him. Once dry, she'd had fallen into bed and cried herself to sleep._

_When she'd woken that morning her face was still throbbing, so she'd headed straight to bathroom to find some painkillers. When she'd closed the wall-mounted cabinet and looked into its mirrored doors she'd almost recoiled in horror; the left side of face was black and blue. She'd quickly looked away and taken her pain killers, before beginning to conceal her bruise._

Returning to the present, she eyes herself critically in the mirror; in order to disguise the damage she is wearing more make-up than usual. She just hopes no one will notice or pass comment. Turning away from the mirror, she grabs her bag and keys from the table. Just as she is about to pick up her phone it begins to ring. It's Richard. The thought of speaking to him turns her stomach so she quickly presses the ignore button, and leaves for work.

* * *

Richard calls her eight times in total that morning, eventually leaving her a voicemail begging her to speak to him. Just before lunch she relents and calls him back. He apologises once again and asks to meet so they can talk. Ruth is reluctant but he sounds so lost; regretful and upset, that she finds herself agreeing but on her terms. He'll meet her in fifteen minutes or not at all. He agrees and she chooses the Riverside Terrace Café on the South Bank as their meeting place, knowing that it will be busy and there will be lots of people (and CCTV cameras) around should she need them. She's sure to tell Sam where she's going too; taking every precaution.

He's outside waiting for her when she arrives; he looks like he hasn't slept a wink. He eyes her face, obviously looking for signs of injury.

"It's amazing what make-up can cover these days," she tells him curtly as they make their way into the café. He doesn't reply. Once they've been served Ruth manages to get them a table near the door, in case she needs to make a quick escape.

They eat in silence. Well, they pick at their food in silence, is probably a better description and eventually Ruth has had enough. "Why am I here, Richard? Why did you call me?"

"I wanted to say sorry for what happened."

"You've said that a fair few times already, both last night and this morning in your message... It doesn't change anything."

"I was drunk…"

"That's no excuse!" she hisses.

"I know; believe me, I know. God Ruth, you have no idea how awful I feel. I went straight home last night and broke down. I was even sick; that's how what I did made me feel…it made me physically sick. I don't know what came over me; I've been stressing about this dinner for weeks and then when we had to rearrange because of your job, I just…I began to be resentful and then you were late-"

"-by ten minutes!" she reminds him. "It's hardly the crime of the century!"

"I know, and you're right, in the normal, everyday scheme of things ten minutes is nothing, but I'd been working myself up about making a good impression; I want this promotion so badly. Every minute I sat there waiting for your felt like an age. I felt John and Patricia were judging me based on the fact that you weren't there. I took solace in the wine bottle and got carried away with my drinking." He reaches out tentatively to take her hand and she lets him. She can't explain why; she just does. "Please Ruth; please forgive me. If you give me a second chance I will make it up to you. I promise. And I swear I'll never hurt you again!"

Ruth can see in his eyes that he's genuinely sorry for what he's done and she did enjoy the time she'd spent with him before last night; he can be loving, kind, thoughtful and terribly funny. She looks at their entwined hands, and back at his face. "I…"

"Please Ruth; I love you."

And there it is; the declaration that Ruth has been waiting for years to hear; what she has been longing for over the past few months. That fact alone clouds her judgement for long enough that she agrees to take him back. "Okay, but we take it slowly," she stipulates. "We start again and you're going to have to prove to me that I can trust you. And you get help for your drinking."

Richard is visibly relieved, glad to be getting a second chance. "I will, I will." He lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses it gently. "Thank you Ruth; thank you so much!"

"Don't thank me. Just make sure I don't regret my decision," she tells him.

"You won't," he assures her, squeezing her hand. "You'll see."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews; they really have made me feel more at ease about this story. Hope this part was believable.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** We're taking a bit of a time jump here…in terms of episodes we're now a couple of weeks after 4x04 and about a week before Clive McTaggart's death (4x05). Obviously this story is AU, and that will become more obviously so over the remaining chapters, but Ruth and Harry's 'relationship' has still progressed as on the show.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Richard is as good as his word for the next three months and is very nearly the perfect boyfriend. He speaks to his doctor about his drinking and he cuts down dramatically. Ruth tries to persuade him to attend an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting but he refuses; saying he isn't addicted. Ruth takes his point; he doesn't need a drink to get him through the day, but suggests it might give him some help in terms of a support network. He replies that the only support he needs is her.

He's attentive and caring, buys Ruth flowers, takes her out and never moans when things have to be rescheduled because of her needing to work extra hours. He's loving and affectionate too, although Ruth hasn't slept with him since the incident. Things are going so well, that Ruth really begins to believe that it was just a one off; caused by the alcohol.

But then Richard's life is turned upside down. He doesn't get his promotion; instead he gets made redundant. It hits him hard and he struggles to find another job. He loses his luxury apartment in the city and is forced to move back to his parent's house in Aylesbury. This means Ruth sees slightly less of him, but as she keeps telling him, it's only temporary. He'll find a new job soon and then he'll be able to get back on his feet and move back to London.

Over the next few months, whenever Ruth does see him he is forlorn and downcast; bordering on depressive. Ruth tries to remain cheerful but he is snappish and berates and demeans her at almost every opportunity. When she objects he tells her she's taking him too seriously; that he's only joking. He doesn't exhibit any violent behaviour towards her but one evening he pushes a plate of the table in frustration when she accidentally knocks his wine glass over, staining his new shirt. He apologises immediately, but does pass comment that she really shouldn't be so clumsy.

Deep down, Ruth knows she isn't happy but she constantly makes excuses for Richard's behaviour. She tells herself that he's under a lot of stress at the moment and when he's back on his feet he'll be much more like himself; the funny, charming man he was when she first met him. She tells herself that she has to stay with him because if she leaves him, it would kick him while he's down and she is scared by what his reaction would be; he may get angry at her and hit her, or he might slide further into depression and harm himself and she can't be responsible for that.

But most of all she tells herself he loves her, and no one else does or probably ever will.

* * *

_22__nd__ October 2005, 3.05pm…_

She's hopeful that she can help him relax this weekend. She's off, so he's come up to stay with her, to spend some quality time with her and so far it's going well. They'd had a quiet dinner last night and then a lovely morning spent walking round the park and perusing the local markets. She thinks that tonight she might be ready to move the physical side of their relationship on; he won't wait forever and it might bolster him up a little. Besides, he loves her so she should reciprocate his affections.

She is in the kitchen, standing on a stool, trying to reach a casserole dish from the back of the high cupboard, when the phone rings. "Richard? Could you get that for me?" she calls through to living room.

He replies in the affirmative and a few seconds later the ringing stops and she hears Richard answer it. "Hello?"

"Er…hello. Is Ruth there?" a male voice asks.

Richard is immediately on alert; why would a man be ringing Ruth on a Saturday afternoon. "That depends. Who's this?"

"Harry."

"Harry, huh?"

"Look, I'm Ruth's boss and this is urgent. Is she there?"

Richard sighs dramatically. "Yeh, hang on." He turns round to see her standing in the doorway watching him curiously. He passes the phone to her with a curt, "It's your boss."

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm sorry to ring; I know it's your weekend off."

"It's fine. Do you need me to come in?" She sees Richard role his eyes.

"Would you mind?" Harry asks. "We've got some Arabic documents that we need translating. I could try and get one of the specialists from another section to take a look, but that'll be like-"

"Getting blood from a stone?" she quips. Section Heads at MI-5 don't like to share.

"Exactly. There's also the fact that you're so good at what you do that I don't really trust anyone's analysis but yours."

Ruth smiles and can't help but blush at Harry's praise, and she can feel Richard's eyes on her. "I can come in for a couple of hours," she replies, all the time knowing that Richard won't be happy about it.

"Thank you Ruth. I appreciate it. I'll see you in a bit."

"Bye Harry." She hangs up and turns to face Richard. "I'm sorry; I'm needed in work. I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours."

Richard huffs. "But I've come all this way to see you!"

"I know," she finds herself saying, "and I hate having to leave you here, but I _have_ to go."

"And what am I supposed to do with myself until you get back?"

Ruth shrugs. "Make yourself at home; read a book, watch the rugby, whatever you'd normally do with your weekend. There's a spare key in the dresser in the hallway if you need to go out." She leans over to kiss him, but he turns away so her lips barely graze his cheek.

Refusing to get wound up by his behaviour, she tells herself that he's being unreasonable and not to rise to it, before collecting her things and leaving the house.

Hearing the door slam; Richard picks up a cushion and throws it across the room in frustration. His eyes follow its path through the air and, as it lands near the book case, he spots her step-father's bottle of whiskey. He could really do with a drink right now. Gingerly he pours himself a glass. One small one won't hurt and what Ruth doesn't know won't hurt her.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Just a warning - things get a little dark towards the end of this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_22__nd__ October 2005, 3.45pm…_

Harry watches Ruth exit the pods and approach her desk. He studies her intently as she greets colleagues and shares a smile with Fiona. She turns towards his office and he tears his gaze away; not wanting to be caught staring. He's found himself doing that a lot lately; staring. The way the light bounces off her hair, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs and the adorable way she chews on her lower lip when she's concentrating on a particularly difficult translation. He can get lost in watching her; he could do it for hours if he allowed himself.

This extra attention he's been paying to her has led him to notice changes in her over the past few months; she's become progressively sadder, like she's lost part of herself. She's just not the same as she was when she was first seconded from GCHQ; not as bubbly or bonkers. She's still as brilliant as ever though, if sometimes a little distracted. He's tried to ask her what was wrong on a few occasions but each time she's replied in a shaky, yet firm voice that she's fine; just tired. He wonders if it's due to Danny's death but something about that doesn't sit right with him but he can't quite put his finger on what.

He approaches her desk to bring her up to speed on the new intelligence but he sees she's already buried in the file. He watches her for a few moments before she finally notices him. She smiles bashfully at his attention.

"Sorry, I was well away then."

"That's quite alright. I hope I didn't drag you away from anything important by asking you to come in today."

"I have a… friend staying." Harry raises his eyebrow; her hesitation has given her away. "Well, more than a friend to be honest… m-my boyfriend. Richard."

"The delightful chap who answered your phone?"

"Yeh, that was him. He's having a bit of a rough time at the moment and… well, he's not himself."

"The only thing you have to explain to me is why I haven't seen an S24 regarding him." Of course he wants to know more but she is clearly uncomfortable and under no obligation to him.

"Ah. That. It'll be on your desk by the end of the day."

Harry nods. He can't bring himself to say anything in the affirmative as it might sound like he is pleased that she's seeing someone, which he isn't. His insides are turning with jealousy. He'd known he'd developed feelings for her, but the strength of them still surprised him.

"Are you okay?" Ruth asks, noting his sudden silence.

"Fine. Sorry; my brain has run ahead to my meeting with the Home Secretary later. Speaking of which, I'd better get back to it," he indicates towards his office. "Let me know if you find anything."

"Of course." With that he is gone and Ruth is left with her files.

* * *

_5.15pm…_

An hour and a half later, Ruth is ready to leave and is stood outside Harry's door with her completed S24 form clutched tightly in her right hand. She hates this part of the job, having to declare her private life so it can be examined like a newly discovered life form; prodded and poked at until the powers that be are satisfied it will do no harm to its delicate balance of secrets and lies. It doesn't help that she has to hand it to Harry who, before she had met Richard, she'd entertained a little bit of a crush on. But about two month before she met Richard she had resigned herself to the fact that nothing would happen to them. For two reasons; one, he's her boss and two, a man like him would never be interested in someone as plain and bookish as her. So she had moved on.

If she's honest with herself though, she still harbours those feelings for Harry. In fact, if anything they've gotten stronger as they've become closer over the last few months. She deals with it by pushing them down deep inside, feeling that nothing can ever come of it and, besides, she's got Richard now and he loves her.

'_But you don't love him, do you?_' protests the little voice in her head. Well that's the million dollar question isn't? Does she love him? Love is a strong word, she tells herself. One full of commitment; not something to be taken lightly. She isn't sure, but if she doesn't love him, it's certainly something close. He's funny, kind, understanding... well most of the time. Since he'd lost his job though, he'd started to change; not treat her quite the same way; sometimes he'd been quite cutting in his remarks.

Whereas Harry… well Harry had been the exact opposite. He'd taken her into his confidence; she was his right-hand woman and she knew he told her things that he wouldn't tell anyone else on the team. They'd formed a formidable working relationship; they'd even become friends.

'_So why is it so hard for you to knock on his door and give him the form?'_ The little voice is back again and Ruth desperately wants to gag it. '_Could it possibly be because you don't want to be with Richard; you want to be with Harry,_' it taunts.

Shaking her head, Ruth composes herself and raises her hand to knock. She ends the discourse with the little voice in her head. She's with Richard now and when things are back to normal, they'll be happy again. She'll wait it out. Besides, she can't leave him now. It might just break him.

"Come in," Harry's gruff voice calls from inside. She enters and he looks up, surprised to see her. "Oh, it's you."

"Charming!"

He flushes, embarrassed. "Sorry, it's just that…well you don't normally knock so I assumed you were someone else."

She flusters a little. "Yeh, well, y'know… I thought I'd give the knocking thing a try, I hear it's the done thing."

"That's one opinion."

"Not yours? I was under the impression that you hated people barging in?"

"Yet you continued to do it anyway. Anyway, my opinion on the matter is interchangeable; it all rather depends on who's doing the barging."

Ruth blushes and curses herself. Hasn't she just renewed her internal commitment to Richard? Damn Harry for making her feel like a school-girl. She clears her throat. "I'm off…I was just bringing you the form you asked for."

He takes the proffered piece of paper. "Richard Francis," he reads. "There's a joke in there somewhere…"

"Yes, his friends have already picked up on that one."

Harry swallows slowly; it must be serious if she's been let into inside jokes with his friends. "Right, well; leave it with me," he tells her, placing the form in his in tray to deal with later. "It might take a couple of days to process but…"

"It's fine Harry. Whenever you can… I'd better get going. I'm expected."

"Of course, of course. Did you get anywhere with the translation?"

"Doesn't seem to be anything useful but I've got Malcolm and Colin running the phrases through the system to check."

"Thanks. Sorry for ruining your weekend." He isn't of course. He much prefers her being on the Grid to being at home with another man. Richard.

"Don't worry about it," she tells him. "I'll see you on Monday."

"Yeh," he replies distractedly. "Monday."

* * *

_6.30pm…_

Ruth arrives home later than she said she would be, as there had been an accident that had closed off her main route home. The house is shrouded in darkness.

"Hello?" she calls out as she lets herself in. "Richard?" There's no response. Ruth glances at the coat stand; his things are still here, so he must be somewhere. She moves into the living room and flicks on the light. No Richard, but there is an empty bottle of whisky on the coffee table. One that had been three-quarters full when she had left for work. She sighs heavily and continues her search.

She finds him sat at her kitchen table, a bottle of wine in his hand. He doesn't even have a glass. In front of him on the table are the four bottles of thirteen year old malt she has bought for Harry's birthday next week. Thankfully they are unopened. Her plan is to write her R, U, T, H on them; one on each bottle and hide them in his office as a homage to the hidden present she'd received from him for her own birthday earlier in the year.

She doesn't have time to continue her train of thought as Richard stands and barks at her. "You're late!"

"I was stuck in traffic. There's been an accident on the-"

"Don't lie to me!" He pronounces each word with careful emphasis, as he approaches her. Instinctively she steps back, but his hands shoot out and grab her wrists, just as he had done previously.

"Richard…" she warns but he isn't listening.

"Shut. Up," he growls, slapping her across the face with such force that she feels blood begin to pool in the corner of her mouth. "You were with him weren't you? Admit it!"

"With who? Please, Richard I don't know who you're talking about."

"Your precious Harry of course! That is who these are for, right?" He sweeps his hand in the direction of the four bottles of whiskey. "Must have set you back quite a bit, that lot? You're seeing him aren't you? You're sleeping with him."

"No, I'm not."

"I told you not to lie!" he screams, picking up a mug off the side and throwing it at her. It misses and hits the wall to her left. "Well you won't fuck me, so you must be getting it from somewhere!"

"I'm not sleeping with him. Honestly I'm not!"

"I don't believe you!" This time it's a glass that feels his anger. It too smashes on the wall behind her, but a flying shard catches her on the side of her head, just above her eye, and blood begins to pour down her face.

Seeing the blood shocks him and he pauses in his tirade, leaning on the counter, panting. Ruth sees her opportunity and flees the kitchen. He sees her though and gives chase. He catches up with her in the hallway, just as she's reaching for the door. He tackles her to the ground and she hits her head as she falls to the floor. He flips her over onto her back and straddles her, holding her hands above her head. "You are mine. Understand? MINE!"

He manoeuvres himself so both her wrists are in his left hand and gives her another slap across the face for good measure. She groans in response. His free hand goes to her shirt, slowly undoing the buttons. She tries to move away but he shifts his weight, preventing her from doing so. "You wouldn't give me what I wanted willingly so I guess I'll just have to take it. After all you're obviously willing to give it to him!" He pushes her skirt up, running a hand up her leg as she tries to fight him off.

"Please stop!" she screams. "Please! No!"

He pushes his mouth against hers to silence her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye she sees his hand reach down to unbutton his jeans and she knows she has to do something. She has to stop this. With a muffled cry, she bites down on his tongue. Hard.

Her action earns her a punch to the head. The pain is intense; roaring through her skull. Black waves start to undulate in her field of vision. She fights not to pass out, but it's no use; she's slipping in and out of consciousness.

As she finally succumbs to the darkness, a gasp escapes her lips. A name.

"Harry..."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thank you for all your positive reviews on this. To those readers who are also reading _**HR always live on's **_fic, 'Families' I feel I should apologise for the timing of the last chapter – two heavy depressing chapters so close together can't have been a thrill for you! More communication is needed - we'll try to do better next time.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_22__nd__ October 2005, 6.45pm…_

Harry signs off on the latest file and adds it to his out-tray. There have been no pressing developments in the current investigation so he's using this time to catch up on some of the paperwork he's been ignoring. Now that he's finished the files from the last operation his next stop is the ever increasing pile of paper in his in-tray.

He absent-mindedly picks up the top piece of paper and quickly scans it. It isn't long before he stops. It's Ruth's S24. He'd been that engrossed in files that he'd forgotten he'd put it in there.

He reads through the details. Richard Francis. 39. Qualified accountant. Currently 'between jobs'; Ruth's tactful way of saying he is unemployed. Harry reads a bit more about his education and his family but has to stop when he reaches the section entitled, 'What attracts you to this person?' It's too personal and if he's honest it hurts too much. He shakes his head; he's not capable of being impartial on this one, he hates the guy already and is very tempted to decline his clearance. Also, he doesn't like prying into his colleagues' personal lives. He'll pass this one over to Human Resources.

Just as he is dropping the form in his out-tray with an accompanying note, Colin bursts into his office.

"Maybe I need to organise some inter office training; 'how to use one's fist to knock on a door'."

"Sorry Harry but this is urgent. An alert has just flashed up on the emergency services liaison system. The police have received a call about a violent disturbance at an address on our watch list."

"Whose address?" he asks.

"Ruth's," Colin informs him gravely.

Harry's face falls. He rises from his chair and put on his coat and gloves. "I'm going over there. Alert my driver and get Adam and Zaf to meet me."

Colin nods and watches his boss rush out of the office; his concern for Ruth overriding any other thoughts.

* * *

_7.15pm…_

As Harry speeds into Ruth's street, his eyes are immediately assaulted by a barrage of blue and red flashing lights. Two police cars and an ambulance. He pulls the car to a sharp halt just before the police cordon that surrounds her house and jumps out, approaching the police officer manning the barrier.

"Sorry mate," the police officer says, raising his hand. "This is a closed area."

"I know the owner of this house," Harry begins, but he's cut off.

"I'm sorry, I can't let you through."

Harry flashes his MI-5 badge. "She's one of my team," he informs him.

The policeman steps aside and lifts the tape so Harry can pass underneath. "Apologies sir. The paramedics are inside with the victim."

He's just inside the cordon when he sees Adam's car arrive. "They're with me," he tells the policeman when he moves to stop him and Zaf.

"Bloody spooks," the officer mutters in reply but lets them pass.

"What do we know?" Adam asks.

"Not much; I'm just going into see Ruth now. See what you can find out."

Adam and Zaf do as instructed while Harry walks up the path to Ruth's front door. When he enters the house the first thing he notices is the shards of glass on the floor, cracking under his feet as walks. Ruth in sat on the stairs, but his view of her is blocked by the two paramedics treating her. It's only when one of them moves to get something from their bag that he is able to get a good look at her. He hates to say it but she looks awful. One of her eyes is close to being swollen shut and there are cuts and bruises all over her. A trail of blood is streaked down her cheek from the deep gash on her forehead.

He moves towards her. "Ruth!"

She opens her unhurt eye at the sound of his voice. "Oh God! Harry!"

"Are you family?" the male paramedics asks as he approaches Harry confrontationally, obviously assuming he has something to do with what happened to Ruth.

"No. I'm a…friend."

"Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He tries to guide Harry out of the house, but he won't be moved. "If you don't leave I will be forced to ask the police to-"

"It's okay," Ruth rasps, weak but alert enough to realise what they think. "He didn't… It wasn't… He can stay."

Permission granted, the paramedic steps away and lets him through. He crouches down in front of her and takes her hand gently. "Oh Ruth!"

"We need to take her to the hospital," the paramedic informs him.

"No!" protests Ruth. "No hospitals!"

"Miss Evershed, I-"

"No, I don't want to be prodded and poked and gawped at."

The paramedic motions to Harry and he moves to speak with her in private. "You say you're her friend, right?" Harry nods; he doesn't know if that's how Rut would describe them, but it's how he sees them. "Good. You need to convince her to go to hospital. She was unconscious when we arrived, she's got a nasty bang to the head that may require stiches and…" the paramedic trails off, clearly uncomfortable.

"Go on."

"Her skirt and underwear are torn and there's bruising around her upper thighs which indicates a sexual assault."

"The bastard raped her, is that what you're saying?" Harry asks in a frantic whisper.

"We don't know. That's why she needs to go to hospital. Try and convince her. Please."

Harry returns to Ruth and squeezes into the gap next to her. "Let me guess, they've sent you to make me change my mind. Well you can save your breath Harry; it's not going to happen."

"Ruth, listen to me. You need to be looked at by a doctor; it's that simple. Now, you can let the paramedics take you to the hospital or I can call Sally Chapman right now and have her come and take a look at you. What's it going to be?"

The thought of the MI-5 doctor seeing her in this state and possibly signing her off, or worse sending her to TRING has Ruth requesting to go in the ambulance within minutes and the paramedics baffled as to how he managed to convince her.

After a quick chat with Adam and Zaf confirms Harry's suspicions that it is Richard who's responsible for the attack, he climbs into the back of the waiting ambulance with Ruth.

* * *

_8.30pm…_

Harry sits in the waiting room, holding a bunch of flowers. He's been there for over an hour; the doctors wheeled Ruth away as soon as they arrived and told him in no uncertain terms that he was to remain outside. To occupy himself, he'd popped to the gift shop for the flowers and gotten himself a coffee, but it hadn't taken as long as he'd thought it would have and he'd found himself back on the cold, hard, plastic chair after about fifteen minutes.

He is about to go and get another drink when he spots Adam walking towards him. "How is she?" the younger agent asks.

"I don't know. They're still treating her. Won't let me in. What have you found out?"

"We've pulled up Richard Francis's details like you said. He's got previous for GBH on his ex-wife."

Harry sighs, wondering what the hell Ruth had seen in this man. "Have you found him?"

"Harry, I really don't think we should get involved with a police investigation," Adam begins hesitantly.

"He beat her up; may have even raped her!" Harry growls. "We can't let him get away with that. _I_ can't."

"Fine. He left his car at Ruth's so must have escaped on foot; the police think the sound of their sirens disturbed him; thank God Ruth's neighbour made the 999 call when she did. I'll get Malcolm to run him through the system; check CCTV and when he last used his cards. But whatever we find, we pass onto the police." Harry shakes his head but Adam persists. "It won't do Ruth any good if we piss them off."

"Fine. But if they don't do anything-"

Adam nods. "We'll deal with it."

Harry's about to ask how he plans to do that, when a doctor approaches him. "Excuse me, Mr Pearce?"

He stands. "Yes?"

"Miss Evershed is asking to see you."

"Is she okay?"

"She took quite a nasty beating, but there shouldn't be any lasting damage. She has a lot of cuts and bruises and two broken ribs. We want to keep her in overnight to monitor her though; it's standard practise for head injuries, but she should be able to go home tomorrow. She'll be sore for a while, but it could have been a lot worse."

"The paramedics said there was a possibility that she'd been…that he may have raped her?"

"There's some evidence of a sexual assault but we're confident that there was no penetration."

"Thank you," Harry replies, shaking the doctor's hand.

"I'd better get back," Adam says. "Tell Ruth I hope she feels better soon."

"Adam!" Harry calls. "I think that last piece of information can remain between us, don't you?" He doesn't want people knowing the more sordid details of Ruth's attack.

Adam nods. "Of course."

Harry nods back and, with slight trepidation about what might await him when he gets there, makes his way to Ruth's room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_22__nd__ October 2005, 8.40pm…_

When he enters her room, Ruth is facing away from him but she turns at the sound of his footsteps. She looks a little better now that the doctors have cleaned her up, but she's still badly bruised. He hands her the flowers.

"Thank you. They're lovely," she replies with a weak smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore. Tired. Stupid."

"You are not stupid," he tells her firmly.

"Oh but I am Harry," Ruth looks down at her hands and starts twisting the sheet in her fingers. "I… he…"

Suddenly Harry understands and he feels himself tense at the realisation. "Has he done this to you before?" he asks gently.

Ruth nods sadly. "Once. About 3 months ago. He was drunk. We rowed and he lashed out. He seemed so appalled, so sickened by his own actions and he apologised and swore he'd never do it again, and I believed him! I gave him a second chance and…" She trails off, a small tear escaping. She wipes it away quickly. "You should go. I'm sure you've got better things to do than babysit me."

"Not really," he shrugs.

She raises an eyebrow, trying not to wince at the pain. "What about the JIC meeting?"

"Hells bells! I'd forgotten about that." He looks at his watch; he's got 10 minutes to make it across London to Whitehall. "What would I do without you; even in hospital you're worrying about my schedule."

"You'd better hurry up; who knows what Mace will propose if you're not there to keep an eye on him." She's making excuses but she can see that he has questions and she needs to figure out what she's going to say to him before she allows him to ask. She's dangerously close to breaking down and she won't let him see her like that. Weak and fragile.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"Yes. I'm not likely to be good company tonight and besides, I'll have to give my statement. Go and serve your country."

He nods. "Okay," he acquiesces and turns to see two police officers entering. He gives her hand a squeeze and places a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Once the police have gone, try and get some sleep, okay?"

"I'll try," she promises, before watching him leave, the skin on her forehead still tingling from where his lips touched.

The voice of the policewoman brought her out of her daydream. "Miss Evershed, I'm Detective Sergeant Diane Rogers. Do you feel up to answering some questions?"

* * *

_23__rd__ October 2005, 9.35am…_

The next morning Ruth is feeling a lot brighter; even more so when the doctor assesses her and informs her she can go home. "Is there someone we can call to come and collect you?" she asks

Ruth thinks for a moment. It's at this point she realises that Richard had covertly managed to ostracise her from all her friends. Except those on the Grid of course. But she can't ask them. Those who are working will be too busy and those who aren't, well, they deserve to spend their Sunday off in peace. "Err no. I'll just get a taxi."

The doctor frowns. "I wouldn't really feel comfortable with that."

"Well, what about the gentleman who was here last night?" suggests the nurse who is currently checking her blood pressure.

"I…I can't put him out."

The nurse looks confused. "If I may be so bold, I doubt he'd see it as any imposition. Not when he sees it as no bother to sit with you for half the night."

"I'm sorry? He came back?" Ruth clarifies.

The nurse nods. "Oh yes. We told him you were asleep but he was quite insistent to be let in. Said he wouldn't wake you; just needed to be near you. I finally threw him out at oh, about half past three, when he was barely able to keep his eyes open."

Ruth digests this information and makes a decision. "Can you get me a phone?"

* * *

_9.45am…_

Harry is awoken by the shrill ringing of his phone. 'Please don't be a red flash,' he thinks. He wants to get into the hospital to check on Ruth. "'Lo?" he answers sleepily.

"It's me. Ruth."

He's instantly more alert. "Is everything alright?" he asks.

"Yes thanks. Actually, they're discharging me and I wonder if... would you be able to pick me up? I would have called my mother but she'll only worry if she knows what happened."

"Of course I'll come," he agrees. "Can you give me about an hour?"

"There's no need to rush; they've got to get my discharge papers and medication ready anyway."

"Right. Well, I'll be as quick as I can anyway."

They hang up without saying goodbye and quickly showers and gets dressed. He's ready and out of the door in under half an hour; he's well practiced in the art of efficient get-ups thanks to his years in both the army and the service.

The traffic through London is slow, and whilst stuck in another queue Harry calls the Grid. "Malcolm," he says into the hands-free. "Tell me you've got some good news?"

"Afraid not Harry; they're still looking for him. He's not returned to his parents and his cards haven't been used since he withdrew £300, his daily limit, from the cash machine at the supermarket up the road from Ruth's."

Harry sighs and slams the steering wheel in frustration. "What about facial recognition?"

"It's been running since I got in this morning; I've gone over all the cameras in the vicinity of Ruth's house and I can't find him leaving the scene; he must have used the back streets. I'm running it in real-time now though, so as soon as he passes a CCTV camera, I'll know."

"Okay, thanks Malcolm."

"Tell Ruth…tell her we're thinking of her."

"I will."

Harry leans back against the seat as Malcolm disconnects the call and closes his eyes. He prays the police will find him soon, because if they don't he'll be forced to do it himself and if he gets his hands on the bastard, he knows he'll probably kill him.

A car horn startles him out of his musings; the queue is moving now. He shifts the car into gear and carries on his journey to the hospital.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_23__rd__ October 2005, 11.25am…_

Harry parks the car outside Ruth's house and helps her out. She leans into him as they walk up the path, allowing him to support her and carry her bag. He takes her keys and lets them in, placing the bag down in the hallway. Ruth looks around; it's as if nothing has happened. She turns to Harry, questioningly.

"I got a team in; I hope that's okay. I didn't want you confronted with…"

She puts a hand on his arm. "Thank you Harry. I hadn't even thought about the devastation I'd come back too."

"It was nothing." He notices a far off look in her eye as she surveys the room. "Are you okay?" he asks.

She forces a smile. "I'm fine Harry; the doctors wouldn't have discharged me if they were concerned."

"I'm not talking about physically. You've been through a terrible ordeal and…" Ruth drops her head, knowing that if she looks at him she'll break down. He continues, a comforting hand on her back, "I know you're a strong person Ruth, but you're still human and for someone to go through what you have… I just want to help Ruth."

"Thank you Harry, but I'm fine. Really."

"No you're not," he observes. "But you will be. Especially now you're home, and safe. Although I am thinking of asking Malcolm and Colin to up your security."

"There's really no need," Ruth protests, not wanting anymore fuss. "He wouldn't try and force his way in; he's not _that_ stupid. The only way he could get in was if I let him or he had a key, which he doesn't and…" Ruth trails off, remembering something.

Harry looks at her intently. "What, what is it?"

"There was a spare key, in the top draw of the dresser. I told him where it was." Her voice trembles as she speaks. She moves to the cabinet and opens the top drawer. Moving some of the papers around, she looks for the key. "It's not here," she cries as her search becomes more frantic, pulling papers out haphazardly. "He's taken it!"

Harry steps behind her and places his hands on her upper arms. She calms under his touch and he takes over looking for the aforementioned key. He methodically empties out the drawer, sifting through the paper but not looking in detail at any of them. The key has gone.

"You can't stay here tonight," he tells her gravely.

"No." Her voice is stoic; inside she is worried and afraid but she doesn't want to let Harry see that.

"I have a spare room… if you want," Harry offers.

"I can't impose on you, Harry. I can go to a hotel. I'll just go and pack a bag."

Harry watches Ruth climb the stairs and sighs, wishing she would open up to him and accept his help. He knows he can't force it though so, resignedly, he walks through to the living room to wait for her.

* * *

_11.50am…_

It's been nearly twenty minutes and Ruth still hasn't come down. He knows women can sometimes be a little overzealous in their packing but Ruth isn't your average woman. It shouldn't take this long. He stands at the foot of the stairs, listening intently for any movement. He can't hear anything, so he slowly climbs them. He sees the door to the two bedrooms open and Ruth's overnight bag sitting on her bed. He opens the door to his right and is confronted by all manner of chaos; piles of books, half empty boxes and more. He smiles to himself at he takes in her 'dumping ground' or 'junk room'; all that stuff people hoard and then don't have the time or inclination to sort out so it just gets shoved into a room and has the door closed on it. He has one himself; the attic.

Shutting the door, her moves over to the only other closed one, which he surmises must be the bathroom. Hearing no sound or movement he knocks lightly. "Ruth?" No answer. He raps again, a little harder this time and the door nudges open. Slowly he pushes it all the way and finds Ruth, sat on the tile floor leaning against the bath with her knees pulled up to her chest, hugging them. She's shaking and trying not to cry, and a quick look at the toilet bowl confirms she's been sick.

He approaches her and lowers himself down next to her. Not wanting to startle her, for she doesn't seem to have registered his presence, he gently wraps his arms around her shoulder. "Oh Ruth."

The tenderness in his voice is too much for Ruth to bear and all the tears she has been desperately fighting to conceal explode to the surface and she breaks down, falling into his open arms. She clings to him, needing more and more of him to comfort her. Instinctively he pulls her to him and cradles her, all the time mindful of her injuries. Pain fills his heart at seeing her like this. His presses a kiss to her hair and holds her until she quietens.

"I'm sorry," she whispers as she pulls out of his embrace slightly to look at him.

"Stop apologising."

She sits up but he keeps his arm around her shoulder. "I didn't mean to fall apart like this."

"I think you're perfectly within your rights to. Can I ask what caused it?"

"I was packing so I came into here to get some toiletries together and I saw myself… in the mirror. I didn't realise quite how bad it was."

"It isn't."

"I know you mean well, Harry but don't…"

"Sorry. But they're just cuts and bruises; they'll fade."

"They will but what about everything else? The psychological damage? The memories? The fear? The humiliation?"

"Humiliation? You've no reason to feel humiliated," he tells her earnestly.

"But I do, Harry. I feel so ashamed for letting him do this to me; for giving him the opportunity by taking him back. What must people think of me?"

"Believe it or not you're not the first woman to forgive a man for hitting her, and I very much doubt you'll be the last. As for what people think, well they're shocked yes, I won't deny that, but most of all they're concerned and they feel guilty."

"Guilty? Why?"

"Because they should have seen it. _I _should have seen it."

"No, Harry. Please don't blame yourself."

"I'd noticed you'd been more withdrawn. At first I thought it was because you were still grieving Danny but when it didn't improve I suspected there was something else. You said you were fine but I could tell you weren't. I should have persisted."

"I probably wouldn't have admitted what was happening; I don't even think I could see what he was doing."

"Well then, you shouldn't feel stupid or ashamed or embarrassed or any of those other words you've used to describe yourself in the last 24 hours. Men like him, they manipulate, coerce and deceive; it's in their nature and they're well practiced at it. It is not your fault. Did the police tell you about his history; his past conviction?" She nods. "See, you're not the only one he's done this to."

Ruth nods slowly, but Harry knows that true acceptance is a long way off. She has been violated and abused by someone she thought loved her; it will take a long time for her to get over that. And he will be there, every step of the way. He pushes himself up of the floor, his knees cracking as he stands. He smiles at Ruth, trying to brush off the pain, but when his back twinges as well he can't help but grimace.

Ruth looks up at him from her position on the floor. "That's what you get for sitting on a hard floor," she tells him. "Well, that and spending half the night in a hospital chair."

He looks embarrassed. "Ah. The nurses told you about that then."

"Yes. There was really no need Harry." She motions to get up too and Harry offers his hand. She takes it and allows him to help her, before perching on the side of the bath.

"Security in that hospital isn't great. I was… concerned he might have come back," Harry admits, letting go of Ruth's hand.

Ruth isn't convinced. "Yet you allowed them to kick you out at half past three?"

"Yes, well that nurse was not one to be argued with." Ruth looks at him sceptically. "Alright, fine; I had an agent in the corridor by the ward entrance."

"Harry!" Ruth begins but he isn't listening. He's taken a face cloth off the side and is running it under warm water. When it is suitably damp he begins to wipe her face. She ducks her head, embarrassed at his actions but he lifts it gently, fingers under her chin and fixes her with a look, imploring her to let him take care of her. She relents, and he continues to clean her up, ridding her face of the traces of tears, vomit and dried blood. 'I could get used to this,' she thinks. 'Being taken care of by Harry.'

All too soon though, he is done and moving away from her. He is rinsing the cloth clean when Ruth smacks her lips together, "I can still taste the vomit," she complains.

"Well, you go and finish packing and I'll make us both a drink, eh? How about that? Sweet tea; that's what you need."

"That sounds lovely," she admits. He smiles and turns to leave but she calls him back before she can change her mind. "Harry... I think I'd like to take you up on your offer of a spare room… if it's still open?"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thank you for all the reviews and comments – I really appreciate it. Just a little warning for this chapter - contains descriptions of violence.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_23__rd__ October 2005, 7.50pm…_

Harry looks across the table at Ruth, pushing her spaghetti around her plate. He brought her straight here once they'd finished their cup of tea at her house and given her the not-so-grand tour. Once she put her things in his spare room, they'd sat in the living room reading the paper, watching the television and making small talk. He hadn't returned to work; keeping in touch with the Grid by phone and e-mail.

They haven't spoken about the about the attack since he'd found her on the bathroom floor. She's retreated back into her shell, like the events of the morning haven't happened. She is bottling up what happened to her, scared that she will appear weak. Yes, she's told him a little about how she felt, but he knows there is still more she will need to address and talk through with people. He only hopes he can be there for her.

He prays that this ordeal won't break her. He has seen what the trauma of attacks such as the one she had been subjected to have done to women. The thought of that happening to Ruth is a lead weight pressing on his chest. It aches painfully.

His conscience isn't helping matters; he is blaming himself. He's the one who'd called her in; disturbed her weekend off. If only he'd acted differently. If only her hadn't called her in. If he hadn't been so paranoid to only trust her analysis. If only he hadn't tried to avoid the rigmarole of trying to borrow an analyst from another section. If only he'd driven her home. If only he'd pushed harder for answers when he noticed changes in her behaviour. If only he'd plucked up the courage to ask her to dinner before she'd met him. If only he had done something, anything differently, maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't have happened to her.

Rationally, Harry knows that there was no way that he could have prevented what had happened to Ruth. Not while she was still with the bastard. If it hadn't been that night, then it would have been another. Eventually the situation would have exploded. And it was that realization that was destroying him.

Noticing him watching her, Ruth speaks. "I'm not really hungry, sorry." Her voice brings Harry back to the present as she leaves the table.

"It's okay," he tells her.

"I- Is there any chance I could I have a bath?"

"Of course. Help yourself. I put some fresh towels in your room."

"Thanks. I think I might just go to bed after."

"Whatever you want to do," he replies.

She leaves the room and he is left alone with his pasta. He doesn't see her again that night; he hears her retire to room about an hour later, as she had indicated that she might.

* * *

_11.35pm…_

Harry is sitting downstairs in the living room, idly flipping through the TV channels. It's late, but he can't sleep; his brain is still replaying the events of the day. Scarlet has just moved from her place by his feet to lie in her dog basket when he hears something. He mutes the television and listens carefully. There it is again; a moan, a cry. Ruth.

He rises and makes his way to the spare room. He opens it gently and finds Ruth thrashing about on the bed, her eyes closed and face twisted in pain and terror. He stands in the doorway grappling with himself; should he go to her or not. Eventually the need to comfort her wins out and he approaches the bed, sitting down on the edge. He takes he by the shoulder and shakes them gently. He's aware that she might not relish physical contact but he can't let her be trapped inside her nightmare anymore.

Harry knows all about nightmares; he dreams frequently and lucidly of every failed op, of every officer that has been ripped from the world on his watch. He knows what it feels like to be in a nightmare; to know that it's just a dream yet not be able to wake yourself from it.

He shakes her a little more forcefully. She struggles in his grasp but doesn't wake. Harry pulls her into a sitting position. "Ruth," he says quietly. "Come on Ruth, wake up. It's just a dream."

Her struggling turns into frantic flailing. Her hands fly up to protect herself instinctively. "Don't touch me!" she cries, opening her eyes. Harry can hear the fear in her voice. Despite opening her eyes and looking right at him, she doesn't stop struggling. She starts hitting him, blows landing on his chest.

Harry dodges the blows to his face as best he can. "Ruth, it's me; Harry!"

She keeps hitting him until finally she has no strength left. Her arms fall weakly, and her gasps become large, wracking sobs. Harry pulls her to him. He can feel her heart pounding in her chest, pressing against his. Her tears are dampening the material of his shirt, but he doesn't care.

"I tried to stop him Harry," she cries, finally looking at him. "I really tried." Her voice is similar to that of a terrified child. "But he was so angry. He thought… oh God. He thought that you and I… that I was cheating on him… with you. He started throwing things so I tried to run… but he was too fast for me. He tackled me and pushed me to floor." Her tears are still falling, but she ignores them and keeps talking. "He started to unfasten my shirt and…"

Harry stiffen a little at Ruth's words. She's about to tell him things he isn't sure he's ready to hear. He'd known that this moment would come; that eventually the pain she was feeling would cause her to crack and he'd vowed to be there and listen. But he hadn't given much thought about how he deal with the fact that as soon as she started talking about the attack, he'd want to run out and kill the bastard who had done this too her.

"It's okay, Ruth," he whispers. He tries to keep his voice even, not wanting her to hear the pain and the anger he is feeling. "You're safe here."

"He said that if I wouldn't sleep with him willingly, then he'd take what he wanted. I could feel him…he was hard. It was pushing against my leg." Her breathing is getting more laboured now, and her eyes are darting around the room, almost as if she expects him to be there. "He kissed me, forced his tongue into my mouth. When I saw him go for his jeans I realised he was really going to do it so I bit down on his tongue. I can still taste the blood. His blood."

She dissolves into sobs again and Harry holds her until she calms. "You don't have to tell me Ruth."

"I need to tell someone I trust," she admits. "The doctors and police…it was all very clinical. I couldn't break down… and I…"

Harry understands and feel honoured that she trusts him enough. "Okay then. Take your time."

"He got angry and hit me. I blacked out. When I came round again he had his fingers… inside me. He was hurting me. Then he heard the sirens and saw the blue lights through the door. He called me a bitch before getting off me and running out through the back door. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness then until the ambulance arrived."

Harry holds her tighter and rocks her gently, like he used to do with Catherine when she was a little girl. "They will find him, Ruth. I promise. He'll pay for what he's done; I'll make sure of it."

Eventually her tears slow. "I'm tired now," she whispers.

"Lie down then," Harry instructs, helping her to curl back up into the covers before making to leave the room. "I'll be next door if you need me."

"Harry, wait," she calls. He turns back to look at her. "Could you… stay with me?"

"Of course." He pulls the chair over from the corner of the room and sits next to the bed, holding her hand. "I'll stay until you fall asleep."

She is silent for a moment before broaching the subject again. "That's… that's not exactly what I meant. Would you sleep in here with me." Harry looks at her, studying her. "In this bed," she adds to avoid any confusion.

Harry takes a deep breath. How many times has he dreamt of sharing a bed with this woman? Fantasised about what it would be like while stroking himself to completion thinking about it? Of course those thoughts are inappropriate at the moment, after what she's been through, and he hates himself for even thinking them. "Are you sure?" he asks.

Ruth nods. "I think if I know you're here I might be able to turn the light off and shut the door. I'll feel safe."

"Okay. Let me go and lock up downstairs," he answers, his voice calmer than he felt inside.

When he returns after securing the house and getting changed into his pyjamas, Ruth is lying on her side, facing the window. She has put the bedside lamp on, so he takes this as a sign to turn the big light off. He flicks the switch off and she stiffens.

"Okay?" he checks before closing the door.

She takes a deep breath. "Yeh. Fine."

He climbs into the bed behind her, careful not to touch her. He positions himself on his back, his arms by his side.

"Thank you Harry," she says sleepily.

"Any time Ruth," he replies, closing his eyes and trying to think of anything but the woman of his dreams lying next to him.

* * *

**A/N:** This story isn't finished yet but I'm back to school tomorrow so can't promise when the next update will be. Please be patient.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Harry opens his eyes; the morning sun shining brightly through the gap in the curtains. Ruth is next to him, lying facing him. She's still asleep and, thankfully seems to be at peace. Harry breathes a sigh of relief. She's got through the night without any other nightmares; maybe talking to him last night had helped.

He gazes at her for a few minutes; her brown hair fanned out across the pillow. The bruising on her face, particularly around her eye, has darkened overnight and is now a dark purple and the gash on her face is scabbing over, but she is still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. Absentmindedly, he strokes a strand of hair away from her face and leans down to kiss her forehead. As he pulls back she begins to stir; her eyes fluttering open.

"Harry?"

"Morning. How are you feeling?"

She sits up, her hair tousled from sleep. "A little better, actually. My face is throbbing though."

"I'll get you some painkillers," he offers.

"I'll get them," she insists. "I am capable."

"Okay. Listen, I was thinking…" He is interrupted by the sound of his mobile phone ringing from downstairs. He glances at Ruth apologetically. "Sorry," he says, before going to hunt out his phone.

Ruth gets up and retrieves her robe from the back of the door before following Harry. She finds him in the living room, pacing up and down whilst conversing. "Where?"… "Right." … "Never you mind about that." … "Thank you. I'll be there as soon as I can." Ruth watches his face but it's unreadable. He hangs up and turns to Ruth. "That was Adam. Something's come up; I need to go."

A worried look crosses Ruth's face and Harry places a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You'll be safe here. The security is top notch. Which reminds me; I'm going to get Colin onto yours today."

"Thanks, but don't pull him off the current operation. My locks can wait; the Iraqi dissident plot can't."

"But you won't feel safe there until it is."

"I don't know if I'll ever feel safe there," she admits quietly.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need to," he offers.

"Oh no… Harry… I didn't mean..."

"It's fine Ruth. Honestly. Now, I really must get ready to go."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later Harry is in the car, but he's not heading to the Grid. He's on his way to the police station. The phone call earlier had been from Adam, to inform him that the police had picked up Richard during the night. Harry recalls the conversation whilst he is stopped at a red light.

"_Harry, it's Adam. I've got news."_

"_Have they got him?"_

"_The police picked him up in the early hours; he used his card to pay for a hotel room. They'll be ringing Ruth shortly I'd assume." Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief that he was off the streets. _

"_Where is he?" Harry had demanded. _

"_I'm not sure I should tell you."_

"_Where?" Harry had repeated in a firm tone. _

"_Kentish Town Police Station," Adam had replied with a sigh._

"_Right." _

"_What are you going to do?" he'd asked. _

"_Never you mind about that." The less Adam knew, the better._

"_I'll cover for you here until you get back."_

"_Thank you," Harry had replied. "I'll be there as soon as I can."_

He hadn't told Ruth; if she knew that he knew, she'd have stopped him from doing what he was planning. But he has to do this; he has to face the man that did this to Ruth.

Luckily he knows Brian, the custody sergeant at Kentish Town and a quick call while he was getting ready has confirmed that he is on shift this morning. Accelerating away from the, now green lights he makes his way there.

* * *

"So why you interested in this bloke anyway?" DCI Brian Hardcastle asks as he leads Harry down to the cells. "He don't look much like a terrorist to me."

"He isn't. The woman he attacked; she's… one of my officers."

"But you said…" Brian stops, but Harry keeps on walking.

"I didn't say anything; I just asked if you could get me in to see him. You assumed the rest."

Rushing to catch up to him, Brian finally stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "Just hang on a minute will you? What exactly are you going to do to him?"

"I just want to have a little chat," Harry tells him feigning innocence, although it's clear he has other plans.

"I'm not sure…." he says, having second thoughts now he knows the real reason for Harry's visit.

"We look after our own," Harry begins. "What would you do if it was one of your officers? In fact, if I recall correctly, in 1992 someone suspected of raping one of your officers took a rather nasty fall down a flight of stairs at this very station."

Brian recalls the incident in question and relents, continuing down the corridor. "Okay, but your boys better do a number on my CCTV tapes because if my Chief Con finds out…"

"He won't," Harry assures.

They stop outside the end cell. "He's in there," Brian indicates with a jerk of the head. Harry lowers the flap in the door and peers through. Richard is lying down on the hard cell bed, facing the wall. Nodding at Brian to unlock the cell, Harry prepares to come face to face with the man who put Ruth in hospital.

The door opens loudly, the sound stirring Richard. He turns towards the door and sits up. "Who the hell are you?" he asks, seeing Harry. He can't talk properly because damage Ruth has inflicted upon his tongue has left it swollen.

"I'm your worst nightmare." With those words, Brian locks the cell door behind Harry and walks away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Ruth is pacing up and down Harry's living room, her mobile pressed tightly against her ear. "Come on," she mutters to herself. "Pick up, pick up, pick up," she wills.

"'Lo?"

"Adam, it's Ruth."

"Hey!" he greets in his usual cheery voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine thanks. Look I need to speak to Harry and he's not answering his phone. Is he with you?"

"No. Why? Should he be?" Adam sounds confused.

"You rang him didn't you?"

"Ah… yes, but-" His hesitation may have only lasted for half a second but Ruth heard it and senses that something's not right.

"Adam, what's going on?"

"The police have arrested Richard," he says after a slight pause.

"Yes I know, they've just phoned. Don't change the subj-…" The cogs start to turn in Ruth's brain. "Hang on; how do you know? When did you find out?" Adam is silent. "Adam!"

"A couple of hours ago," he admits.

"And you told Harry." Ruth thinks back to the conversation last night and remembers Harrys' words. _'He'll pay for what he's done; I'll make sure of it.'_ "Oh God; he's going to kill him. You've got to stop him."

"Ruth I…"

"I mean it Adam. He said he was going to make him pay… please. I can't have someone's death on my conscience Adam, not even his. Please."

Hearing the desperation in her voice, Adam realises he must stop Harry before he damages his relationship with Ruth beyond repair. "Okay. Leave it with me."

* * *

Once the cell door is shut, Harry approaches Richard slowly and menacingly. Richard tries to back away the cell is only so wide and soon he is backed up against the wall. Harry's right arm shoots out and grabs him by the throat and lifts him a couple of inches off the ground.

"What the hell?"

"Strange feeling isn't it, being on the other side of aggression."

Realisation dawns on Richard's face. "This is about Ruth."

Harry squeezes a little tighter and growls, "You're not fit to say her name!" He watches as Richard's face reddens and he struggles to breathe. Just before he is about to pass out Harry drops him to the floor.

Richard stumbles but manages to stay on his feet, but Harry's actions have roused his anger. "She's a cheating bitch!"

Harry's hand balls into a fist and flies at Richards face. The punch lands on the jaw and knocks him to the floor. Harry towers over him. "She is ten times the person you will ever be." He punctuates his point with a kick to Richards's stomach.

"Argh!" he cries.

"Not nice is it?" he asks kicking him again. He steps back and, saying nothing, he removes his tie, wrapping the ends around his wrists so he's got a good grip on it. He approaches Richard once more, a threatening look in his eye.

He lifts his arms, and is about to wrap his tie around Richards's neck when there is a loud banging on the door. Adam's voice travels through the thick metal. "Harry stop!"

"This doesn't involve you," Harry calls back.

"Get this door open before he does something we'll all regret," Adam instructs Brian. Brian does as he's told and Adam enters the cell.

"I told you this is none of your business."

"Ruth sent me." Harry looks up at him. "She knows what you're planning to do and she asked me to stop you."

Harry loosens his grip on the tie and it goes lax in his hands. "Why? After what he did…"

"She says she can't have someone's death on her conscience."

"He needs to pay for what he did."

"He will. The police will see to that. Harry, Ruth's dealing with enough as it is; she doesn't need this." He approaches his boss and lowers his voice, knowing he's taking a chance with his next words. "Come on, before you do something that will destroy any chance you have with her."

Harry looks over at Richard, shaking with fear on the floor, and fixes him with his most intimidating glare. "You will never lay another finger on her, do you understand me? You'll never come near her again. Because if you do, he won't be able to stop me. Do I make myself clear?"

Richard nods and Harry turns and leaves the cell. When he's out in the corridor, he collapses against the wall, shaking at the realisation that he'd almost killed a man with his bare hands. He's done it before, but only in extreme circumstances, when it was a matter of kill or be killed.

Adam has remained in the cell and is still looking down at Richard. "Personally, I think he should have finished you off, but Ruth's too good of a person to let that happen. Still, we're in a position to make life very difficult for you. We don't take kindly to someone attacking one of ours. I'd bear that in mind if I were you."

* * *

As soon as Ruth hears the front door open she goes into the hall to greet Harry, her face like thunder. She's been waiting for him ever since Adam had called to let her know that he'd managed to stop Harry from causing any irreparable damage to Richard.

Harry can't meet her eye, wondering what he'll see there. Hurt? Contempt? Disappointment? On the drive back from the police station, he kept replaying his actions over and over in his head. The more he thought about it the more stupid he had realised it was. Ruth abhorred violence and she didn't have a vengeful bone in her body, so how was hurting, no killing, Richard going to help her. Eventually he came to the startling conclusion that despite appearances, he hadn't been doing it for her but rather for him; to make him feel like he had some control over the situation.

"Feel better do you?" she finally asks, after he's shed his coat and shoes.

"Not particularly, no." He still doesn't look at her, walking past her into the living room and pouring himself a whiskey.

Ruth looks at the clock and frowns. "Don't you think it's a bit early?"

"Not the way I feel," he replies, flopping down on the sofa.

"Why Harry?" She doesn't need to elucidate; he knows what she's referring to.

"Do you really need to ask? He deserved to pay for what he did to you."

"Yes," she agrees, "and he will; the law will see to that. Upholding fundamental British values, like the justice system, is part of what we do Harry; you shouldn't just throw that out of the window on a whim."

"Ruth, he hurt you; he violated you trust in the most painful way and I…"

"What?" she presses, sitting down next to him.

"I just needed to do something to help; I needed to feel useful."

"You stupid man! You are being useful. Just being here, talking, supporting me, that's what I need. Not you throwing your fists around like a…..an angry hippopotamus."

Harry raises his eyebrow and can't help but smile, despite the situation. "I didn't know hippopotamuses had fists."

"Well they don't, obviously; it was the best analogy I could think of in the moment. And shouldn't it be hippopotami rather than hippopotamuses?" she asks, wrinkling her brow. Harry looks at her incredulously; he doesn't know and he doesn't really care at this moment in time. Realising the absurdity of the conversation, she laughs; they both do and it breaks the mood. "I mean it though Harry; you are helping more than you know by just by being here for me." She places a hand over his, rubbing her thumb gently over his red knuckles. "Can you keep doing just that and stop with the heroics?"

He turns his hand over and interlaces their fingers. "I'll be here," he promises.

She smiles at him then, her first proper smile since the attack. Their eyes lock and they realise that their faces are only inches apart. There is a moment of stillness, of silence, where they say nothing and simply breathe in each other's breath before Harry reaches out and cups her face gently with one hand. He pulls her closer and kisses her. His mouth touches hers lightly at first; seeking her lips gently, feeling the warmth of them against his own. To his surprise, she responds eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him with less hesitance, more passion. After all their dreaming and fantasising about this moment, it is finally here. The events of that morning, the attack, work, everything fades away as they explore each other's lips and mouths. Ruth sighs against him, kissing him for a few seconds before pulling away.

"I shouldn't have done that," Harry says, turning away from her. "Sorry."

She reaches for his face and pulls him back round to face her. "Don't be," she tells him honestly. "It was… nice."

"Nice?"

"More than nice. So nice it's turned my brain to mush and I'm having trouble thinking of a different adjective."

Harry senses there's more. "But?"

Ruth sighs. "But… we can't do this. I can't ask you to do this."

"You're not asking me to do anything. I want to be with you; if I'm honest, I've wanted if for a while."

"Oh God Harry; you're timing. Y'know in these past months there have been thousands of moments in which, if you'd told me that, I'd have jumped at the chance to be with you. Always. Even though I was with…him. But now… I'm damaged goods, Harry."

"No!" he exclaims and she flinches slightly. He spots it though, and feels guilty for startling her. "Sorry. But Ruth, you are not 'damaged goods' as you put it. Yes, you've been through one hell of an ordeal but that doesn't change the way I think or feel about you."

"I'm a mess Harry,"

"You're not!" he stresses. "You may not be at your best right now, but you will be soon enough. You're strong enough to get through this, and when you do I think we could have something… special. Just think about it."

"I don't need to."

His face falls. "Oh."

"No Harry, you don't understand. I don't need to think about it because if you're willing to take me on like this I'm not going to say no. I'm not stupid." He smiles as he realises what she's saying. "But, can we take things slowly? I need time to adjust; to heal. I'm not pushing you away," she's quick to point out, "I just…"

"It's fine," Harry tells her, "I'm not going to push you into anything. I'll go at whatever pace you want to." He touches her face with one hand. Ruth feels his warm hand smoothing the skin of her face. "Can I kiss you again?"

Ruth smiles shyly. "I'd like that."

Harry leans in slowly and kisses her gently, carefully, letting his lips move over hers in a soft rhythm. Ruth feels her arms slip up around his neck. When they pull apart, they are both a little breathless.

"I hate to do this," Harry begins, "but I need to go into work. Will you be okay?"

Ruth nods and for the first time since the attack, she truly believes she will be.

* * *

**A/N:** This isn't the end. I see at least one more chapter – maybe two depending on how busy I am.

Also, those waiting for an update on Complications, I hope to have it out by the end of the week… we've got an inspection in school this week, so I'm up to my eyes! But once they've gone on Wednesday, I'll have a little more leeway with my time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Three months have passed and Ruth is almost back to herself. She'd spent three days at Harry's after the attack before returning to her own house, which now has a state of the art security system thanks to Colin and Malcolm. Her first night there, she had insisted Harry go home, that she would be fine on her own but she'd only managed twenty minutes before calling him and asking him to return after she'd had a rather vivid flashback in the hallway. Luckily, Harry had still been in his car, parked at the end of her road, once again proving that he knew her better than she knew herself.

He had slept next to her that night, and the next two, until Ruth finally decided she had to try to cope alone. Harry had slept fitfully that night, waiting for the phone to ring but it didn't. Ruth managed the whole night on her own. She hadn't found it easy and hadn't slept much but she had known that it was something she needed to accomplish if she was going to move forward with her recovery.

In the three months that have passed since then, Harry has been a perfect gentleman, taking their relationship slowly as she had requested. They've kissed, in fact they've spent rather a lot of time doing that, and there have been a couple of occasions recently, where their hands have ventured inside each other's shirts after a particularly heavy session of snogging, but Harry has always stopped them; reminding her that he understands that she wants to take it slow and that he's fine with that. Despite certain parts of his body protesting in a _very_ noticeable way. The problem is that Ruth doesn't want to carry on moving slowly; she wants to try and take the physical side of their relationship to the next level.

She thought she had been giving Harry those signals when they were being intimate with each other; initiating the first under-shirt contact, raking her fingers at the edge of the waistband of his trousers, moaning at his touch and pressing her groin into his. But Harry isn't taking the hint. She understands why; the attack is still very recent and she had told him she wanted to take things slow. She now has to figure out a way to tell him, in a way that leaves him in no doubt, that she's changed her mind; that she wants to speed things up.

* * *

"_That_," Harry says as places his cutlery on his plate, "was delicious. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Ruth smiles at him from across the table in her kitchen.

"Although, you've got me worried," he admits. "Have I forgotten something… some kind of anniversary?"

"No, I just wanted to say thank you for everything you've done; for all your support."

"You don't need to."

"You've been fantastic," she says, drinking down the remainder of her wine to give her a little Dutch courage. She rises and makes her way around the table to him. "So loving and patient." Perching on his knee, she wraps her arms around his neck. "And I thought it was about time your patience was rewarded."

She kisses him passionately and snakes her hand between them to feel him through his trousers, leaving him with little doubt as to where the evening is headed. He is incredibly aroused by her actions, but he needs to know for sure that this is what she wants. Reluctantly, he breaks their kiss and studies her face.

"Why did you stop?" she asks, a little breathless and her face slightly flushed with passion.

"I need to be sure that you really want this."

She smiles tenderly at him. "I've wanted this for a while. I've been trying to let you know in a more subtle way but I finally realised you'd never make the first move for fear of pressuring me so this is me… seducing you; letting you know that it's okay. I want to try and make love with you Harry. I'm ready."

She takes his hand and leads him up the stairs to her bedroom. Once they're inside Harry kisses her, backing her gently against the door and feeling her respond to him. Ruth is tugging at his shirt, trying to pull it from the waist of his slacks. After a few fumbling moments she succeeds and slips her cool hands underneath. He gasps at her touch. "Oh God Ruth!" She quickly unbuttons it and pushes it of his shoulders, before raking her hands down his chest and then round to his bare back.

His hands travel to the hem of her jumper and he looks to her for approval. She nods and slowly, gently, he lifts the material over her head. Harry runs his fingers over her bra straps, sliding them off her shoulders, never once taking his eyes from her. He reaches behind her and unfastens the clasp, pulling the black lace away from her body and breathes in deeply at his first glimpse of her beautiful breasts.

They move to the bed, losing the rest of their clothes as they do so. Lying down next to her, propped up on his elbow, Harry's eyes caress her now nude body. He sees her tremble as she feels his arousal press against her. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm will be," she assures him, turning onto her side. "I want to do this… I just need to get past some demons."

"What can I do to help?" he asks, his hand finding hers

"Talk to me," she suggests. "That way my brain will know it's you and that I'm safe and loved."

"You are loved," he tells her. "I love you so much, Ruth and the fact that you trust me enough to do this with me… it's just amazing." He whispers his words directly into her ear, before kissing her neck lovingly. "You are so beautiful. Stunning. Absolutely stunning." As he speaks he feels her body gradually relax.

For him, this is easily the most sensual sexual experience he's ever had; he's extremely conscious of the need to go slowly and that is turning this into something he's never experienced before. He knows that making love to Ruth is going to be incredible. He's wanted her for so long and now he's finally going to find out what it feels like to be with her in the most intimate way.

He runs his hands over her body, taking in every inch of her soft skin. Her neck, her shoulders, her arms, the flare of her hips. He moves slowly, not wanting to startle of frighten her. Finally his hands reach her breasts and she gasps at the sensations that were pulsing through her body. Gone is the apprehension, the fear to be replaced by a strong sense of arousal.

She is incredibly sensitive to his touch, as his fingers brush her nipples. She finds her hands wandering of their own volition, down to his bare bottom. Dragging her nails over his cheeks, she is rewarded with a hiss of pleasure.

As Harry's hands travel lower, over her stomach and between her legs, a spark of fear overcomes her and her eyes snap open. "It's okay," he tells her. "It's me. I'm not going to hurt you; I want you to feel good." He lowers his mouth to her breast, sucking on one of her nipples to distract her from her fear. She sighs and moans his name as his tongue makes small circles around it and then back over its sensitive tip. His fingers play with the soft hairs at her apex and she trembles at his touch. "If it's too much," he whispers, lifting his head, "then just tell me and I'll stop."

"It's okay," she tells him and he moves his fingers down to her entrance, thrilled to find her hot, wet and ready for him. She cries out softly at his touch, "Oh Harry!"

She looks up and sees him smiling lovingly at her. The fact that he is taking special care to make it easy for her, less frightening for her, affirms her love for him and relaxes her completely. She moves her own hand off his bum over his hip and grasps his erection, stroking it lightly. Her concentration wavers though as Harry finds her clitoris and waves of pleasure wash over her. He continues to touch her, making small circles around her pleasure centre and she feels her body careering to orgasm. A few more strokes is all it takes and she comes, a series of tremors rippling through her body. "Oh Harry. Oh yessss!"

Harry watches patiently as she rides out her orgasm and comes back to him. "Hey," he whispers when she finally opens her eyes and looks at him. "Are you okay?"

"Mmm-hmm. That was… amazing."

"Good."

"I… I'm ready Harry," she whispers. "I need to feel you inside me."

"Okay, but if you want to stop-"

"I'll tell you," she promises. "Now, get up here."

Harry climbs over her and she spreads her thighs to accommodate him. He nudges her entrance with his penis and she moans his name. "God, I love hearing you moan," he gasps. Ruth tilts her hips upwards and he slides inside, slowly but steadily until he is completely buried within her. She gasps as he fills her. "Okay?" he checks.

She nods. "Just stay there a minute. It's…It's been a while and you're… big," she blushes and turns her face from him.

"How you can be embarrassed to say that when we're in this situation is beyond me," he teases, craning his neck to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Once she is comfortable with his size, she lets him know by grinding her hips into his. He gently moves out and then back in again, causing her to elicit a delicious throaty moan. He looks at her, lying there with flushed cheeks and her hair sprawled out behind her head; her nipples hard and her lips swollen from kissing. She really is gorgeous. He continues to thrust in and out of her, gradually increasing his pace and lowers his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking it gently.

"Oh yes!" she gasps.

Harry can feel his release sneaking up on him but he wants her to experience more pleasure so he snakes his hand in between their bodies and finds her clitoris. He rubs it twice and feels her begin to shudder. She grabs handfuls of the bed sheets in her fists as she rides out her orgasm. The feel of her walls clenching around him pushes him over the edge. He grabs her hips and holds himself tight against her as he comes.

Once spent, he collapses on the bed next to her, spooning behind her and snaking his arms round her waist.

"You still okay?" he whispers whilst placing feather light kisses behind her ear.

"Mm-hmm," she mumbles sleepily.

He kisses from her ear over her cheek, causing her to turn her head to face him. He's not sure what to expect, possibly a hint of fear or tears caused by flashbacks of her attack, but there is nothing of the sort. Quite the opposite actually; she's smiling and it is lighting up her face. She captures his lips with hers in a gentle loving kiss.

"Thank you," she whispers, when she finally pulls away. "That was… perfect."

"You are more than welcome."

"I think we've just taken a considerable leap in pushing everything that happened out of my head," she tells him. "A few more nights like that, of you reminding me how good and safe I can feel during sex, and I'll have beaten him."

"Oh, so you're just using me then?" Harry teases, his eyebrow raised.

"What? God no! Harry I-" she trails off as she realises she's being teased and decides that two can play at that game. Moving her mouth to his ear she whispers seductively, "What I was trying to say, was that a few more nights of slow and sensual and I'll be ready for you to give me a good, hard, fu-"

Her words do their intended job. She doesn't even get to finish her sentence because his mouth is suddenly on hers and she finds herself pinned lovingly to the bed, the stirrings of Harry's second arousal pushing against her. "Who said we have to wait for another night?" he asks, planting kisses down her neck.

"No one. I just thought, at your age, you might need a bit more recovery time," she jokes.

"Cheeky!" he chides, nipping her bottom lightly.

Her hand reaches down to grasp his hardness gently, raking her fingers up it from its base. "Obviously I was wrong."

"Yes you were," he hisses before admitting, "But that's more of an indication as to how sexy I find you." She blushes and tries to turn her face away but he coaxes her back gently. "Don't. You are the sexiest woman I know and I intend to prove that to you in every possible way."

He punctuates his point by showering her body with kisses and as he does so, Ruth realises that she doesn't feel like she's damaged goods anymore; Harry has helped her to heal.

_The End_

* * *

**A/N:** That's it folks. I did toy with the idea of another chapter – a sort of epilogue but decided against it for 2 reasons:

1) I like the end point here as it is  
2) I really don't have the time to write more

So I shall leave the rest to your imaginations - you can continue the story however you wish in your heads.

Thank you so much for all the support you've given me on this story. It's not an easy subject to tackle or read, so thanks for sticking with it and I hope I've done it (as well as the original characters) justice. I hope it's not too much to ask for you to leave one final review.


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